Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere
by oleanderedits
Summary: Scenes we didn't get to see in 7x08 between when Daryl and Jesus left the Sanctuary and the Team Family Reunion.
1. Jesus

"I got the key. Come on, let's go."

Daryl had been more concerned with the gun he pulled off the gate guard than the walkie, but Jesus pulled it off knowing it would be important. He gave the area a final look around as he tucked it into his coat pocket and then hustled himself over to the bike Daryl was backing out. He hadn't really given much thought to how the two of them would get out just yet. Maybe hot-wiring a truck. He'd been focusing on making sure there was an open exit to get to when he heard the commotion of the guard he'd let past getting his head bashed in.

While there would be no love lost and no losing sleep in that one man's death, the look on Daryl's face when he was doing it was going to stick with Jesus for a long time. He'd been like a man possessed. Unable to hear his own name being called. Just taking the pipe to the body over and over again, unable to stop until... what? All the anger and pain and fear was out of him? Probably not all if the strange cross of horror and sanctification Daryl held in his eyes was anything to go by.

It wasn't something Jesus could dwell on right then and there. They had to get going.

"Lucky you had the key, easier than trying to hotwire anything here," Jesus said as he climbed on and grabbed Daryl around the waist. It wasn't entirely comfortable, what with that gun he'd stashed in the back of his belt digging into Jesus' stomach. But it wasn't entirely uncomfortable, either, and he'd had worse experiences besides. "I left the gate he was watching unlocked. Should be able to nose it open with the bike if you don't want to stop-"

The roar of the engine cut him off and he leaned into Daryl's back as the man gunned it. Guess that answered that question.

 **. . .**

Getting past the fence with Negan gone and the guard dead was surprisingly simple. It was like all the security went a little lax without the man with the bat around to keep everyone on their toes. And the fence itself served only to deter those coming in, not those going out. Jesus knew how long it had taken them to get to Hilltop and Alexandria was further still. They had time to slow down past the immediate grounds to find the trail of syrup he'd left and follow it a ways before they needed to stop and get their bearings. Depending on how long Negan took in getting Carl home, they likely had between and hour and two hours to stick to the road Negan's people had used and figure out a few potential alternate routes.

Daryl didn't seem to have the same idea, though, and just kept riding like he was going straight back to Alexandria. Eventually Jesus had to tap his shoulder and signal for a pull over. The other man looked at him, confused, but did as asked, idling the engine when he got them to the side of the road.

"Make it quick," Daryl grumbled, agitation in every taunt line of his body while his eyes darted about. "We're walker bait just sitting here like this."

Jesus, having no plans to be slow, nodded, "Yeah. I know. But we need to change directions. Hilltop will be safer for you right now. We're going to have to turn around."

"I know how to get to Hilltop."

"From Alexandria, yes," Jesus agreed. "But a lot of the roads are blocked and if Negan's already turned around and heading back here, our chance of running into him is higher. They were just at Hilltop yesterday. They got full cooperation and have no reason to return until next week. I can show you the way."

Daryl's hands fidgeted on the handles for a couple long moments and Jesus worried that he'd argue. But he finally gave a slow nod, "Okay. Just yell left or right into my ear when you need to."

Jesus had barely gotten a 'sure' out before Daryl was riding off again. Made him wonder if that was normal or if Daryl was just in a hurry. He was going to guess the latter for now. Otherwise riding with him again might take some getting used to.

They had to drive a little slower than either of them wanted for the first half of the trip. Mostly so Daryl could turn when and where Jesus indicated, but also because they had to backtrack a couple times when a large herd appeared unexpectedly. It wasn't anything either of them hadn't faced before, on some level, but equipped as they were, it wasn't really safe to try ducking and weaving through.

By the time they got into familiar territory (for the both of them), the sun was starting to set and it wouldn't be safe for them to keep going. He'd now been gone two nights away from Hilltop.

"Maggie better not kill me for taking so long," Jesus muttered under his breath as they made camp in the middle of an old gas station. The door at the front had long since been broken in, but the door to the cashier's cage was still sturdy and bulletproof and was not something walkers could break down easily.

"Maggie?" Daryl's voice filled the sudden silence caused by his complete and utter stillness. The word came out like a prayer, soft and pleading, disbelieving at the same time it was desperate for any hope to cling to.

Jesus stopped what he was doing and turned to look at the other man, confused by his reaction. It was like Daryl thought she was-

"They said she died."

-dead. Right. He thought she was dead.

"No," Jesus shook his head, wide smile blossoming to take over his face. "She came to Hilltop. She was having a complication with the baby, but she got to Dr. Harlan in time. She's fine. Both of them are."

Daryl gulped hard and it looked like he was fighting not to break down. A fight he quickly lost as his knees buckled and he had to catch himself on the counter. Jesus was at his side in two quick steps. His hand found Daryl's elbow and Daryl's hand found his sleeve. Clung to it for dear life while he took short, gasping breaths. Relief was washing over him and he looked like he was somewhere between euphoria and hysteria.

Jesus helped him slide to the floor and put his back to the counter. They both let go of the other there, but not because Daryl pushed him away or tried to pull away. He just didn't need the physical support to hold himself up. His grip loosened and his hand fell away into his own lap. And then lifted to wipe at tears that had started coming and he just couldn't stop.

"I'll get the rest of this taken care of," Jesus offered, still smiling. He had a lot more questions about what Daryl had been through now, but getting their makeshift beds for the night secured was the first priority. They had all night to spend catching Daryl up on the realities Negan had apparently distorted for him.


	2. Daryl

Dinner was a meager affair of slightly bruised cucumbers Jesus had stowed away in his pockets during the truck ride to the Sanctuary. He'd spent the last hour while they ate in the dark filling Daryl in on what he knew of all that had happened in the last week or so. Maggie's arrival with Sasha and the bodies of Glenn and Abraham. Gregory being an ass. The Savior's return to Hilltop and their night time surprise hello. Sasha asking him to find where the Sanctuary was. It was a lot to process so Daryl stayed quiet and let Jesus talk while he did so.

"And then Carl said 'show me'," he laughed, imitating a cautious, almost fearful tone. "Just like that, too. So I jumped and rolled and got behind a car. And then he leans out from behind those plastic curtains and waves at me. Just smiles and waves." Jesus' laugh continued as he shook his head, clearly not upset by the ploy.

"He's lucky he didn't get himself killed," Daryl murmured as the sound started to fade. He wasn't really mad at the kid. But when he'd seen him, all he could think about was if he messed up, if he pushed Negan too far, the man might hurt Carl and it would be his own fault. Just like with Glenn. At the same time, he couldn't just stand there and be quiet. He had to check on Carl. He had to. So for the first time in days, Daryl had finally spoken up. Even surprised Negan some. But he'd also kneeled for the first time, too. Because if he didn't, whatever Negan had been doing to Carl - taking his bandage off and whatever else Daryl didn't get to see - he didn't want his own defiance to bring worse down on the kid.

Jesus rolled his head to the side to look at Daryl, smile fading, "Yeah. But he's smart and capable. Maybe a little cocky. A lot like his father."

That got a snort that bordered on laughter out of Daryl, "Yeah. He's Rick's son alright."

"He's a lot like you, too."

Daryl wasn't sure he heard that right and blinked a couple times before looking at Jesus with his brows knitted in confusion.

Jesus's smile appeared again, stretching his face, "He is. And he's like Maggie. Sasha. Michonne. What I know of them, of you, I saw in him. He's smart, calculating, loyal, and doesn't flinch when his family's life is on the line. I don't know what you've been through together, but I can guess a lot of it. The stories aren't that different anymore. Carl's a good kid. I'm betting you had as much a hand in that as anyone else."

Daryl ducked his head, unable to keep eye contact. He didn't know about all that, what kind of influence he had on the kid. But he would do anything for him. Same as he would the rest. Same as the rest would do for him. He knew it in his bones, without thinking about it, without having to wonder. Even if sometimes his head still played with him and made him question how much difference it might make for him to stick around.

There was a loud, sharp intake of breath from Jesus and Daryl's eyes darted over to him as he stretched and finished his cucumber. His throat bobbing oddly defined with how the shadows of night fell across him. He wasn't tired yet, but he was going quiet and it looked like he was trying to find something else to talk about. Whether to fill the silence or to distract Daryl, he couldn't tell.

"They took me to Alexandria about three days ago. Maybe four," Daryl murmured, loud in the absence of other noises, taking the burden of conversation off Jesus for the moment. "Wanted to empty the place out before the first pick up was scheduled. Had me pulling mattresses and shit out. Asshole starts asking about Maggie and Father Gabriel he... He just shows up and asks if we want to pay our respects."

He had to pause, suck in a breath of his own to steady his voice and calm the tears that threatened at the memory. A second one before he could go on, head moving up and down in a shallow nod. "Grave musta been empty, but I couldn't say anything, do anything. I had to stay... stay quiet. Couldn't..."

Another sucked in, shuttering breath on his part and Jesus reached across the small space to rest a hand on his shoulder, "I know." He paused for a second, then amended himself, "I mean, I understand. When they came to Hilltop, we had to leave the graves unmarked. Our people, we don't usually bury them. But it was your people and your way, so I allowed it."

"Why don't you bury them?" The question left Daryl before he realized he was asking it. For going on two years and a little more since they'd left Atlanta, their way had always been to bury their own. Glenn's way. He'd been the one to insist after that first bad hit the group had ever taken.

"They were burning them at the Hilltop before I got there," Jesus answered easily, hand sliding away and back to his own lap. "I think the first few times it was a space issue. There was only so much space we'd have inside the walls once they got built. Just because we only had so much material to build the walls with. We needed it for growing, for living. And going outside to bury bodies, having to watch for the dead while we were having funerals... it would have been too much. Now..."

Jesus shrugged, "It's just our way."

They fell into silence again and this time Jesus seemed fine with letting it sit. Comfortable in it the way he hadn't been just moments before. Maybe the heaviness of the conversation had hit him and he needed a few to get his head on straight. Maybe he just decided it was okay to let the quiet wash over them and the noises of nature filter through as best they could. Daryl had only speculation and no desire to ask. Quiet or not, he hadn't had much relief no matter how much noise was funneled into that cell they'd boxed him into and this, all of it - the talking, the not talking, the crickets and the wind whistling through the leaves - it was so much better.

But the quiet, it gave him time to think instead of forcing him to focus on whatever yattering was falling from Jesus' mouth. That in turn left said thoughts to walk well worn paths until they found a new one they hadn't noticed before. A hiccup in the pattern, a tear in the hedge.

"You didn't slip me the key," he drawled out, long and slow, brows once more creasing while he studied Jesus in what little light was afforded them by the rising moon.

Jesus' own face mirrored Daryl's as he shook his head, "No. I assumed you got it off of someone else or found it somewhere whenever it was you changed your clothes. I was still trying to figure out how to get you past that big room of them and to the yard when you showed up. Someone slipped it to you?"

"Yeah." Daryl shifted his weight to dig into the back pocket of the jeans he'd grabbed and pulled out the note. The matchstick was still attached. He unwrinkled it as best he could, then held it out for Jesus to take. "Didn't know who did it. Saw you and thought it had to be you. But you wouldn't haven't known which key was mine. Even if you did know which bike was."

"I remember you taking it after we hit them at the outpost," he answered, nodding along while he flipped the note over in his hands and studied it. His fingers smoothing the yellow paper in long, thoughtful strokes. "You didn't use the match."

"Nah."

Jesus lifted his head, eyebrows raised.

"Not sure what it's for," Daryl shrugged.

"They have power. Could have set off the fire alarms."

There was a moment rife with the perfect absence of sound before a snort left Daryl. Then a chuckle. Then a small huffing laugh that quickly steamrolled into a full belly one. There was no stopping it once it started. It had been so long since he had anything that absurdly divorced from the world they now lived in suggested to him. It's not like it wasn't a logical thought. And had the world not gone to hell, he probably would have had it on his own. But he was so used to low-tech solutions that setting off a god damned fire alarm was simply the funniest shit he'd heard in what seemed like ages.

If Jesus thought he sounded manic or was worried about the noise, he said nothing. In fact, after a few moments of staring with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, he started joining in. It didn't take long for them to quiet down, but neither could stop grinning or sharing knowing looks that set off yet another fit of giggles for the rest of the night.

It felt good.


	3. Jesus Again

They left the gas station about a half hour before dawn came and the sun cracked properly over the horizon. The place had been pretty thoroughly ransacked so there wasn't much worth salvaging. A couple packs of cigarettes left forgotten in what Jesus assumed was the months, probably year, since it'd first been hit and a few lighters still worth nabbing. What liquids remained in the coolers all looked like they'd gone bad, cases cracked, bottles dented, glass mostly shattered. But a lot of old electronic bits - wires for charging, headphones, emergency lights meant to hook up to a car battery - those were around and even if this wasn't a planned run, they had potential to be usable at the Hilltop. Jesus grabbed those and wrapped them into a bundle he could shove into the saddle bag.

Daryl was quiet as they checked over the place. Both still tired and both still very wired from a long night of fitful sleep. Jesus had volunteered for first watch so Daryl could get some rest, but the other man had never quite gotten to the point he could stay under for longer than a few minutes before jerking awake at the slightest sound. An owl hooting, crickets getting a little loud, the crinkle of Jesus' coat as he shifted his position and stretched a leg out to avoid cramping. All of it just kept waking Daryl up. Jesus' own sleep when Daryl decided to take over the watch was almost as bad. Neither of them really felt safe where they were, even if the company was good.

And it was good. Surprisingly so, considering how Daryl treated him when they first met. Well, after they'd gotten back to HIlltop and sorted things out. Jesus couldn't really blame Daryl for the suspicion and mistrust prior to that. What with the whole stealing the truck full of supplies from them and everything that led to. But Daryl was good company through the night and the coming of dawn didn't bring a change to that like it might have others.

By the time the sun had peeked it's nose over the hills and tree cover, they were well on their way to Hilltop. Daryl driving and Jesus once more tucked in close against his back. The rest of the ride was thankfully uneventful. No walkers, no Saviors, no road blocks. Fortune, if nothing else, smiled on them.

All the same, Jesus had Daryl pull over a half mile out from Hilltop, where a couple of old dilapidated buildings stood. They used to act as the parking and entrance booths to Barrington House. The 'lot' nothing more than dirt and gravel trampled and stamped down via decades of car travel and now overtaken by nature without the constant stream of school buses on field trips or the vans and RVs of curious sightseers.

"Let's hide the bike here," he suggested as he swung his leg over and got off. His hands moved immediately to the saddle bag to grab their salvage. "The Saviors have no reason to come back here or suspect you'd come, but it's better to be safe and not have a bike they'd recognize inside the walls."

Jesus half expected Daryl to protest, but he didn't. He pulled himself off the bike and carefully walked it around to the back entrance of the larger booth. The door swung open with a loud creak that had them both wincing. Daryl froze at the noise, too, just a tiny moment of stillness, like he was waiting for something to pop out at him because he'd been too loud. A caution everyone who went out into the world had learned to have. Though with Jesus standing back and watching, it seemed far more pronounced in Daryl's body language than he remembered it being.

The metal pipe crashing down on the guard's head over and over again flashed through Jesus's mind. He had to pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head to clear the image. Of course Daryl had more reason to be paranoid. It was obvious the Saviors had been torturing him to some extent. He wasn't just jumpy from the possibility of the dead popping out, but also out of fear one of his tormentors would show up.

Daryl got the bike hidden and his composure was back by the end of it. He had nothing on him outside of the clothes he was wearing and the gun he'd grabbed off the guard so there wasn't any real delay before they got to walking. The Hilltop came into view in short order as they rounded the trees planted by the Barrington House Foundation so long ago as a 'natural' barrier between living history and the distracting technology of modern times.

The guards in the top of the house probably saw their bike easily enough, but this close in, it would be the wall guards that now watched their approach. Kal was on duty and when he realized it was Jesus coming up with someone, he got one of the doors open to let them through. The Hilltop was just waking up and getting about their day in earnest. Dawn was barely an hour behind them now. They'd made good time.

"Do you want to clean up first, or pay your respects?" Jesus asked quietly as the gate was sealed behind them, steps slower while Daryl followed close behind. His head was down so his hair could cover his face and his shoulders were hunched. He was clearly uncomfortable in the bloody shirt he was wearing, but Jesus couldn't tell if that's all it was or if Daryl was worried about being seen, period. Or even just seen in the state he was in.

"Glenn..." He nearly choked on the name, and Jesus twisted his body to bring a hand to Daryl's shoulder, stopping him from saying anything further. Letting him know he didn't need to.

"Sure," Jesus murmured, sympathetic smile curving his lips only slightly. He let his fingers linger a moment longer than strictly necessary before he broke contact and jerked his head to the side as he led Daryl off, "He's over here."

He hadn't given thought to anyone else visiting the graves at that same hour. Sasha had been keeping to Maggie's side as much as possible and he'd been assuming Maggie was having breakfast right then. Same as most of the Hilltop. But there she was, standing in front of Abraham's grave, looking down at it with a basket in her hands. She noticed their approach right away and Jesus slowed his steps, intending to give her space and wait until she was done to say anything.

But Sasha had other ideas, it seemed. And so did Daryl. What Jesus knew of the man said he was a standoffish sort. The kind to keep his distance and keep physical contact at a minimum. Even when he'd been comfortable and close to his people on that first trip to Hilltop, he'd kept pretty strict personal boundaries that were only invaded by the others in small ways. Mostly without physical contact.

She noticed the movement, their approach, and looked up. Daryl froze, like deer, when her eyes met his and the slow realization of what she was seeing hit. In the next moment that stillness was shredded into dust as she dropped her basket and hurried toward them, arms wide. Daryl met her half-way, head tucking into her shoulder as he wrapped his own arms tightly around her. His body shook a little and when he pulled back to get some breathing room, Sasha was reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. The dried blood they loosened getting wiped off on her pants before she pulled him into a second hug.

Whatever she said to him then, Jesus didn't hear. It was quiet and he could only tell her lips were moving as she took Daryl by the wrist and led him back to the graves. There was a lot of head shaking on her part and Daryl once again collapsed his head into her shoulder for a much longer time while he broke down. Sasha's eyes found Jesus' then and she mouthed 'Thank you' across the space between them. Then waved him to come closer.

He hesitated at first, but after a second wave headed over. Daryl was lifting his head and sucking in an open-mouthed, shuttering breath when he got close enough to hear what was being said. Sasha reached out to squeeze Jesus' shoulder, a bittersweet smile on her lips as she laughed, "I think you should go apologize to Maggie for cutting your run short. Bring her back a present."

Daryl looked like he was going to protest, but Sasha leveled a look at him that shut him up before he could get any words out, "Go."

He stared at her for a long moment before slowly nodding and murmuring, "Yes, ma'am."

A grin broke out on Sasha's face and she pulled him into another hug, laughing.

 **. . .**

Jesus knocked on the door to his trailer, waiting for the 'it's open' before he turned the knob and walked inside. The bundle of random wires and electronics were held out for Maggie to take and distract her from looking past him as he entered the trailer.

"What's this?" she asked as she followed him with her eyes and flipped it over in her hands.

Behind her, Enid had looked outside, through the open door as Sasha entered, one finger to her lips. Jesus didn't know when the girl arrived, but she was just as surprised to see Daryl quietly hovering behind Sasha as they slowly entered, one by one, without Maggie looking up or behind to see them just yet.

"A distraction," Jesus answered with a grin and received incredulous looks from both Maggie and Sasha for his efforts.

Maggie snorted and set the bundle on the table as she went to resume eating her breakfast, "How is that supposed to distract anyone?"

"We find a car with a working battery, hook those up, let the dead follow the pretty lights," Jesus spread his arms and shrugged, "And it kept you from looking behind you this whole time."

"What-?" Maggie slammed her fork down, looking betrayed and like she was ready to be jumped as she stood and spun, chair knocked out from under her. The gasp that left her was loud and shook her whole body. Both hands went to her chest before she surged forward and pulled Daryl into her arms. As he'd done with Sasha, Daryl's head dropped into her shoulder, though his arms were far less certain as they rose to return her embrace. Though it didn't really matter because when Daryl tried to pull away, Maggie's arms kept him right where he was.

Jesus smiled and started pulling his gloves off. If Sasha's welcome had been warm, Maggie's was a bonfire.


	4. Daryl Again

Maggie's arms held him tight and even when his own, already loose, arms made to pull away she wouldn't let him. She had one up under his shoulder and the other wrapped around his neck and back and her head was pressed into other side of his neck. She was shaking, which meant she was probably crying. And that confused him because even if he could believe she was this happy to see him after what he'd done, crying over him was too much. Meant too much. It wasn't him she should be crying for.

But he didn't want to say it aloud for fear she'd agree. Much as he felt that way, it also felt damn good to be in her arms. Damn good to know she was okay and she wanted to see him. Even if he didn't deserve to have that with all the hurt he'd caused her. Glenn wasn't the first of her family he held responsibility in his heart over the death of. Beth and Hershal were both on that list.

Hershal he knew wasn't his directly. Beth had convinced him of that even if he still felt partially to blame for the Governor coming back at them like that. But Beth he'd been responsible for and he'd lost her and in the losing was where he failed her. She got herself swept up with Grady and trying to be brave and she was damn brave. So brave she got her head blown open and it was him that carried her body out to Maggie. Him that had to apologize for failure.

And now it was him that had to apologize for Glenn.

"M'sorry." It came out almost too soft to hear the first time. Louder the next as his own tears joined hers. By the third time he uttered it, he was leaning into her to keep himself standing as much as she was leaning into him. And he couldn't stop the 'sorrys' as they bubbled up out of him like a damn breaking. His hands fisting into her shirt and holding on for dear life.

Her answering chorus of 'It ain't your fault' echoed every single apology and sob that slipped from his lips and it must have taken a good twenty minutes for him to run out of tears and notice that they'd somehow made their way to the floor and she was nearly cradling him in her arms. Rocking them both back and forth while her fingers slipped through his hair. Sasha on the other side of him, rubbing his back. Enid wasn't in view, but Jesus was.

At some point that Daryl had missed, the man had taken off his coat and vest and the belts holding his knives. He'd changed into another shirt and was moving pillows around on the couch. He'd been there the whole time. Witnessed it all.

Daryl turned his head back into Maggie's shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he pushed himself away from her so he could sit up on his own. She didn't let him get far. Her hands moved to either side of his face and held him steady, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"It ain't your fault," she reiterated firmly, eyes still watery but mouth curving up in a grim smile. "It's all on ihim/i. And we're gonna make him pay for what he's done. We're gonna kill him. Not today, not tomorrow, but we're working on it. And it's gonna happen. He won't get away with any of this. Okay?"

He couldn't shake his head no in the face of her confidence. He couldn't deny her words in any way. She was more in control of herself and the situation than he felt about himself. So he nodded and murmured, "Okay."

"Okay," Maggie repeated, smile growing to one of relief as she brushed his hair back and pulled him in for another hug. A deep breath sucked in on her part and she let him go enough that he could sit up on his own. Another nod and another controlled breath. She used it to get herself centered before standing up and holding a hand out to him, "C'mon. Let's get you fed and cleaned up."

Daryl eyed her hand for several seconds before very weakly taking it and allowing her to help him to his feet. Sasha stayed at his other side until they were both sure he was steady. Then she moved around to the door and quietly announced she was going to get started on helping out around the Hilltop as she had been since her and Maggie's arrival. She waited until Maggie and Daryl both acknowledged her goodbye and Enid followed her out with a small wave and a smile.

Maggie lifted her hands away from him to brush through her hair, "Was just finishing up breakfast when you got here." She shuffled the two feet it took to get to the table and pulled out the chair that she'd knocked down earlier. Someone had righted it for her while they were getting their tears out of the way. "Why don't you take that over for me. I'll get an apple on my way to the watch shift. I take over in... Jesus, what time is it?"

"I'd guess about 7:30, maybe 8?" He answered as he picked up a pile of clothes and joined them at the table.

"In about right now," Maggie laughed, wiping one hand along her cheek to try and get rid of the last of the tears. "Well, half hour or so. But I usually go visit Glenn for a little bit first after I check in with Harlan."

She reached out and rubbed Daryl's back, her other hand going to his arm and giving it a squeeze before she made a face, "Ugh, you smell." Then she laughed again. "Sorry. I just noticed. Jesus has the right idea, get yourself changed but take a shower first."

"The only clothes I have are more functional than anything," Jesus said while Maggie gave a final hug and slipped out of the trailer, leaving just the two of them. "But they're loose enough on me I think they should still fit you." He patted the pile. "Shirt, pants, socks. While you're showering, I can make a quick run to the supply house and grab you some underwear, too. Restroom's through a door in that corner there."

Daryl turned and looked where Jesus had indicated before turning back to find the younger man already moving to the door. As his hand closed around the handle, Daryl blurted out a sudden "Hey."

Jesus stopped, turning his head to look at Daryl. His eyes wide and his expression open. Expectant and waiting.

Daryl had to gulp, head dropping as he held himself steady by the back of the chair, "Thanks."

"Of course," he answered, face softening into a smile. And then he was gone, out the door, leaving Daryl to the food and the clothes. And his own haunting thoughts.

 **. . .**

The shower came after the food got scarfed down. It wasn't much, Maggie had been about half-way through the breakfast pot pie when they'd come in. And as bad as he felt for interrupting her meal and her giving the rest to him, he was damn hungry and not about to refuse when he knew there was plenty of food for her to eat in the place. One thing Hilltop wasn't hurting for was fresh fruits and vegetables. And apparently they had a flour mill and enough wheat growing to make use of it regularly. It was the only assumption Daryl could make with how fresh made the pot pie was.

When he was finished, he set the plate and fork aside, not sure where to put them just yet. And then he went to the window and drew the curtains so no one could get an accidental look inside while he stripped down. The clothes he'd found in Dwight's room fit, but they weren't anything he wanted to wear ever again. He bundled them up into a ball and stuck them next to the door. Then he went to find the bathroom and hoped there was a towel inside. There was. Just one. But that's all he'd need really. Just enough to get himself mostly dry before he got dressed.

The water was lukewarm from sitting out where the sun could get to the small reservoir and heat it up, but no further luxury was afforded it. It probably did have a heater attached for the winter. Just wasn't the kind that could easily run without electricity. Which meant the Hilltop probably all bathed up in the House during winter where they could melt the ice and snow and get it hot in the fire places. The logistics of all that ran through his head as he got the blood and grime washed away. Something to distract his mind so he wouldn't have to dwell on how how he looked in the mirror: ragged and like a dog that'd gone feral almost. A lot of that was his hair, which hadn't been washed the whole time he'd been at Sanctuary. They didn't allow any real bathing to happen outside of cleaning the bullet wound to make sure he lived and was physically useful for them.

Daryl's fingers moved to the hole between his shoulder and chest, touching it lightly before rubbing to see how ready the scab was to come off. The water had softened it, but it wasn't loose. Probably had another week on it. He couldn't see the back entry, but it was likely the same. If a bit smaller. Exit wounds were usually the bigger of the two.

He pulled his hand away and shook his head, then reached for small bottle of shampoo. He wasn't going to use a lot, but wanted his hair cleaned. He wanted all of himself to feel as clean as possible. It wasn't like he could really wash away what they'd done to him and he knew that. Just... he needed to feel clean again.

For all that Daryl took his time to wash up, he wasn't about to waste more water than he had to. A large part of the washing happened after he'd shut the shower down and was taking the lone wash cloth to his skin to get the more persistent grime scoured off. It served to help dry him out some, too. Not enough that he didn't still need the towel when he walked out of the shower, but enough that the pants Jesus left for him probably wouldn't stick to his legs.

"Ah- hi."

Daryl's head snapped up, towel gripped around his waist, eyes wide as he met Jesus' who was half-way through the door.

The man's eyes drifted over him in a way Daryl hoped was reflex and not an attempt to judge him before he turned his face away with small smile and a cough. He pulled the door shut and held up the small, folded square of cloth he had, then move to set them on the table. "They're boxer briefs. I wasn't sure of your size, so I got a couple."

He turned back to Daryl, watching him and again letting his eyes roam briefly and Daryl was sure that it wasn't reflex at this point. Not with how his smile widened and his eyes when they came back up to meet his were filled with mischief. The whole thing made Daryl feel even more self conscious, to the point his shoulders started to hunch. It was weird, though, because as much as Jesus looked it, he didn't get the impression he was being laughed at.

"I'll wait outside while you get dressed," he said in a soft, rather pleased tone, as he reached for the door. "When you're done, we can go to the doctor and see about that wound of yours." His free hand came up to his own chest, indicating the exit wound. "It looks pretty fresh."

Daryl was fortunate that Jesus didn't stick around to wait for an answer from him before he was outside and shutting the door behind him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to say anything. Just stand there staring and feeling like a side show exhibit for everyone to gawk at. Everyone being Jesus and Jesus alone in this case, but all the same...

He had to shake himself out of it. It wasn't like others hadn't seen his scars before. Or seen him naked. He could pretend it didn't get to him if he needed to. And it wasn't like Jesus had walked in on him on purpose to try and humiliate him and make him feel like he was worth shit. The man had just come in to deliver the underwear like he said he would. That he'd taken a longer look was... well, Daryl wasn't sure what it was. It certainly hadn't been to laugh at him. It actually felt more like the kind of looks Merle used to give women he thought were sexy.

The thought hit Daryl as he was reaching out for the boxerbriefs and he froze as his mind had to process that once more just to be sure he'd been thinking straight. ...yeah. Yeah, he had. That definitely wasn't a purely friendly look over and it also wasn't one to hurt his feelings. Jesus had just checked him out. Twice. How the hell he liked what he saw enough to smile like that, Daryl didn't know. But as he got his composure back enough to start getting dressed, he felt almost flattered. If a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't really sure what he felt, if he was being honest.

It didn't take long to get dressed once he'd started. The clothes Jesus had laid out fit well enough with only the shirt being a little tight in the shoulders. He was a lot broader in the chest than the other man, but they had about the same waist size and it showed in how the clothes hung off him. After he got it on and the pants and socks, the only thing left was shoes. He didn't want to keep using the ones he'd stolen from Dwight, but if the Hilltop didn't have any to spare, he would.

Daryl opened the door to the trailer and Jesus turned around. He'd been standing a few feet away, looking like he was watching something off toward the House. Once again his eyes when they found Daryl raked over him and Daryl was definitely sure he was being checked out. Again. The smile Jesus gave him was accompanied by a brow creased in confusion, "Didn't you have shoes?"

"Uh... was gonna see if you had any others, the uh.." he let out a huff, "Don't wanna wear the others. Don't like how they fit."

"Oh, sure," the other man replied, the wrinkles easing away with a smile. "I think I know someone who wears shoes about your size. Let me go ask him real quick."

Daryl bent down and grabbed the bundle of clothes along with the boots, "Take these with you."

Jesus stopped in his tracks and did a quick about face to come back and grab the pile. He made a small face at the smell. But he didn't object.

"Burn 'em."

That caused Jesus to look up in surprise. He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but in the next moment he was nodding, "I'll make sure of it." He waited another second to make sure Daryl didn't have any other requests before he ran off toward a nearby trailer.

Daryl sat down on the steps and watched him as he disappeared around a corner. He stayed there, eyes following Jesus as he reappeared and jogged toward what must have been the refuse pile because of how he dumped the pile of clothes next to it before he started back with just a single pair of boots in hand. The guy was doing all this busy work and seemed not to mind at all. He probably had better things he could be doing, but there he was, spending his time taking care of Daryl. He had to know the shoes fit just fine, but he hadn't questioned Daryl wanting to get rid of them. Nor had he objected to the request to burn Dwight's things. Even knowing it was a waste of resources to do it.

When Jesus came back and handed the shoes over to Daryl, he jerked his head toward the center of Hilltop, "Once those are on, we should head to the gates."

Daryl looked up, raising his eyebrows in silent question while he started pulling the boots on.

"Maggie's on guard but I heard her calling for Sasha and Enid while you were getting dressed. We should see what's going on."

"Okay," he answered, nodding easily before falling into silence again. Jesus didn't try to fill it this time and when he was good, they started walking. At the edge of the barn, Jesus started to hang back and Daryl glanced at him as he came around the side before his eyes found Maggie. And with her, was Rick. Michonne. Tara. Carl. Rosita.

His family.

 **. . .**

 _fin_


End file.
